December 28, 2005

  • Christmas Eve at Felony Flats


    Greyfox again–SuSu’s comp is still in the shop.  The area where I live is cruelly known as Felony Flats by the local NIMBYs.  It consists of an unpaved and ungreened strip maybe a klick long, consisting  of storage units–some of which are inhabited–and cabins, some of which are quite large and luxurious, renting for $800 a month.  Thing is, the denizens tend to be an unsavory lot–many are dopers and meth freaks, ex-cons, and professional loonies (that is, folks subsisting on SSI Mental Disability).  The landlord–who is a genuinely nice guy, even-tempered, a devoted family man AND a former Iditarod musher (Greyfox removes fedora reverently)–has his hands tied by Alaska’s rental laws, which favor the tenants–even the worthless, doped-out deadbeat white trash.


    Anyway, this Christmas Eve, I had just gotten off my bed where I had been reading, accompanied by three of my five cats, having decided to finally clean out the litter box.  I saw a young woman bearing a large fancy shopping bag heading towards my cabin.  She looked harmless, so I didn’t go for my gun.  (Note to fellow gun nuts–my gun du jour is a snub-nosed .38 special, an  off-brand model, which I keep loaded with Hydra-shoks–steel-cored jacketed hollow-points favored by military and law enforcement for their stopping power–getting hit with one of these babies is roughly like having a small car fall on you.  But I digress.)


    Anyway, she held out the bag to me and said “This is for you.  Merry Christmas.”


    Never at a loss for words, I cleverly replied, “Um, er–my goodness.  Thank you very much.”


    There was a small votive candle and an unsigned card (it just said “In memory of the baby Jesus–Merry Christmas”), which included a pack of matches for lighting the candle, plus a number of wrapped packages, including a jigsaw puzzle (which Kathy will get), a bag of M&Ms (which Doug will get), cocoa mix (also for Doug), plus beef summer sausage, canned mandarin orange segments, fancy snack crackers and cheese dip–stuff like that. I was touched and moved.


    Evidently, not all of the neighbors hate us poor folk who live at Felony Flats.

Comments (8)

Post a Comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *